"You have betrayed me," said he, in a deep whisper, to his companion; "but you shall reap the reward of your treachery. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter. Here, Peter," he added to a curly-headed lad, who was playing on one of the grassy tombs, "ask your father to step this way. And you need not fear that I shall not give back the sword when I have finished using it. To-night they say he will be conscious. ” It was a long, meandering talk, stupid, shameful, and unavoidable. I sat within a few feet of him.
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